Caught by My Falling Star
by Chios
Summary: AU nonmagic. HD. Harry never planned on being famous. He never dreamed that his band would be anything other than a good time between friends. But when they're picked up by the biggest label in the UK things suddenly start to rock out of control.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **It's an AU where magic does not exist, and Harry Potter is the lead singer in his self-formed band. Harry never planned on being famous. He never dreamed that his band would be anything other than a good time between friends. But when they'ree picked up by the biggest label in the UK, things suddenly start to rock out of control. This is their journey to stardom... one they may never return from.  
**Pairing: **Has yet to be decided… I'm not even sure if it's going to be slash… So I'm open to your opinions! Tell me what you want, and I may just deliver! From here it will either be a Harry/Draco **or** a Harry/Ginny, depending on what you guys tell me!  
**Rating: **Bad language is all, for now. Depending on the pairing it may get worse.  
**Warnings: **I'm not in a band. I'm not (nor have ever been) a roadie/groupie/stalker. In fact, I'm not all the musical. Therefore my actual knowledge of tour life is very limited. But whatever. This is just for fun, less than accurate as it is. I've read a few books and biographies, so although some details may be lacking, what really matters will be there!  
**Notes: **Hogwarts has been changed to **Hogarth**. There will be other changes as I mugglefy the wizarding world… but you'll have to take those as they come. That's the only warning you'll get out of me! ;3

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**Musings on the first**

Chapter One

" – _and then Susan, the girl they were fighting over, right? She runs out and slaps Thomas right across the face! And he's totally just won the whole fight with Garner, right? So _I _jump in and tell that it's O.K.! She can borrow my scooter! And _then _do you know what happened? But she actually tried to _attack _me!"_

Harry stifled an exasperated sigh and switched the phone to his other hand. He reached up and smeared some dirt across his nose as he wiped his sweaty face, wondering if Blaise knew Harry had stopped listening to him several topics ago. Down the line, Blaise had moved onto talking about his shoelaces.

"Blaise, I'm trying to get some weeding done here!" He tried to interrupt. "Aunt Petunia will ground me for weeks if I don't get this done."

There was a pause from Blaise's end.

"_Why don't you just employ a gardener, Haz? We've got three. I think Draco's got half a dozen! You can have one. I'll tell her to wear a bow and come round to your house Friday night…" _Blaise trailed off at Harry's stony silence. "_Or I'll let you finish what you're doing." _He finished meekly.

"Thankyou, Blaise."

Harry juggled the phone so that it was held against his ear with a shoulder, and leant down to pull out a stringy looking weed. Blaise had either forgotten to hang up the phone, or was trying to remember something he had wanted to say.

"_Oh yeah! That's right! Draco said that tomorrow arvo was free for practice! Just give the word, H-man, and we're ready to rock and roll! That's what I was calling you about originally, but you know me -"_Blaise left it hanging, and with a fond smile, Harry finished the sentence.

"You get distracted. Yeah, I know." He paused to think about what Blaise had said. "Look, yeah, tomorrow's good for me. I get off early because Sprout's away for the week so my Bio class has been cancelled. Can you tell Draco that I'll get to his at about two thirty?"

Blaise hummed down the line, sounding as distracted as he ever did.

"_You could tell him all this yourself, of course._"

"Blaise. I understand that you have the mental age of a five year old, but even you should understand what's between Draco and me."

"_Sexual tension?"_

"Bad blood you nitwit. The only reason I let him in this bloody band is because he's your best buddy!" Harry had rocked back onto his heels and was talking down the phone furiously, red in the face. Blaise sounded as oblivious to Harry's temper tantrums as he usually did.

"_Actually, Potter, it's because Draco is the best bloody bassist in England."_

"Yeah, whatever, Blaise. Look I need to go. Should I give Charlie and Ginny a call or will you?"

"_Harry… Harry! Oh my _God! _You won't _believe _who just texted me! I'm going to tell them to drown themselves in eggnog!"_

The sound of Blaise squealing caused Harry to hold the cell phone away from his ear and squint. The sun was just setting and in the time he had been talking to Blaise had dipped just below the horizon. Harry dragged a sticky hand through his hair, thinking about the shower he was going to have once he finished the last garden bed.

"Tell me tomorrow, Blaise. I'll call the Weasley's. I'm going to go now."

"_Oh Harry! No… Harry! Harry! God, I sound like I'm having an orgas – " _Harry clicked the phone shut with a small shudder. He slid it into his pocket and sighed, reaching a hand behind his back to try and ease the knot that had formed from being slouched over the garden all afternoon.

Harry was reluctant to agree with Blaise in anything, but he really did wish that the Dursley's would get a gardener. He'd been pulling weeds out and trimming hedges since he was in his first year of primary school, and it was getting old. With another sigh he pulled out the last few offending plants and threw them onto the pile of leaves and dirt that was positioned next to him.

Harry stood up, dusting his dirty hands on the faded and baggy jeans that he was wearing. With one last weary sigh, he gathered the weeds he'd extracted from the garden into his arms and carried them over to the Dursley's rubbish dump. He could see the television blaring inside the living room and his relatives silhouettes sitting down to watch.

His pocket vibrated suddenly, letting out a trill of lyrical notes.

Harry finished clearing the weeds off the lawn and went inside to wash his hands. He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed the carton of milk that had 'POTTER'S' scrawled across it in blank permanent marker. Without even bothering to fetch himself a glass, he took a swig from the cardboard carton.

Only when he'd stolen an Anzac cookie from Aunt Petunia's jar and retreated back to his room did he look at the text that had come in for him.

With his feet propped up against the cupboard door, Harry scrolled through the phone, muttering under his breathe. "Messages… Oh, it's from you, Hermione… Oh God, not if that prick Ron's going to be there, honey… My God, did I just call Hermione 'honey'? Oh for – " the mobile buzzed again, the screen lighting up as the same jingle played.

Harry blinked when he realised that the newest text was from Charlie.

"You're not going to believe this," Harry recited dubiously, "but I think we might have landed ourselves a gig… Oh dear." Harry shook his head slowly.

His fingers darted across the keypad startlingly fast as he replied. "If… this gig… was… organised… when you'd… consumed… more than… six beers… I don't want… to know… about it."

Charlie was a good bloke, really. He was a tall and athletic Hogarth graduate and by far the oldest in their band. He was notorious for his drinking habits – which was to say that he seemed to like the taste of alcohol, judging purely by the amount of it he consumed. As a result of this excessive drinking, Charlie was often in situations that common and rational people usually were not.

Harry would only be half surprised if it turned out that the outgoing red-head had booked them in to play at a strip club in London… it seemed the kind of thing that he would do.

Charlie's reply was instant, although it brought a frown to Harry's face.

"_Draco _organised it, did he?" Harry muttered. "Well that was unexpected."

Harry was certain that he would never understand Draco Malfoy. The teenager was six months older than Harry (and a good six inches taller, too) although you'd never know it. His parents were insanely rich. The amount of money they possessed fell in with movie stars and software developers. It was old money, and Harry knew that it had been in the Malfoy family for generation upon generation.

Draco and Harry had met under unfortunate circumstances.

They had both agreed that if the situation had been different, it was likely that the two of them could have been quite good friends. As it was, they could barely stand to be in the same room with one another for more than five minutes. It was much less if they were alone.

Harry punched in a querying text to Charlie, aware that the older man knew of the animosity that lay between the two teens.

_Dco h8s us performin. wth?_

Which was true. Of the band, Draco was the most nervous when it came to playing their music in front of an audience. The blonde didn't have much to be nervous about: he was by far the best musician among them – classically trained. He played bass guitar, viola and had even been trained in the flute for several years. He had porcelain skin which meant he looked as though he'd never had to deal with a zit in his life and a bone structure that made him one of the most popular boys at his school.

Of course that didn't matter to Harry: Draco attended the Hogarth Academy. It was lucky that Harry didn't have to deal with him on a daily basis.

Charlie's reply text jingled him out of his thoughts. "Draco knows what's good for him?" Harry read the reply in a whisper, looking caught between horror and amusement at Charlie's carefree answer. It seemed as though Charlie was happy with the news that they'd scored a gig. Harry silently thanked whatever God was listening for the red-heads enthusiasm and dedication to the band.

Harry had first met Charlie two years ago through Ginny Weasley. She was the year below Harry at Stonewall High and unlike her brother, had not been able to make the cut for the Hogarth scholarship. Harry and Ginny had become friends in their year seven/eight combined music class. Looking back, it had been prophetic.

Harry quickly texted both Ginny and Charlie the details for the next days practice before changing into his boxers and reaching up to turn off his lamp. He lay in the dark for a few minutes, mentally reviewing the songs that they would practice tomorrow.

He poked the glowing lights at the end of his bed with a disappointed toe. He needed to write some more music. If there was one thing about the band that Harry hated… it was having to write the songs.

He hummed to himself softly as he lay on his bed, facing the sloping roof of his room, his forehead crinkled in concentration. It was all dark apart from the glowing light-bulbs at the foot of his bed – suffusing the room with a rainbow of colours. The Dursley's had all made their way up to bed almost two hours ago.

"_I wanna be in a rock and role band, up on stage famous enough, I'm gonna shake the Queen's hand. _Aww, shit."

More beeping from above his head had interrupted him, and he sat up with a sigh. Anyone would think he was positively popular with the number of texts he'd been getting lately.

Pulling his phone out of the bag dangling over him, Harry flipped it open and read the glowing LCD screen in the dark.

It was from Blaise: _'OmFg Haz! DR says e gt us a gig! Im gnna fckin rape im 4 joy! Gigigig! Snds lyk ur fckd lol!'_

_Or, in something closer to Enlish_, Harry thought wryly: _'Oh my fucking God! Draco says he's gotten us a gig! I'm going to fucking rape him for joy! –Exclamations of joy- Sounds like you're fucked hahaha'_

Well at least Blaise was happy about it. Although he was right about Harry being fucked – if they really did have a gig (even if it wasn't very serious) then Harry was going to have to come up with a new song pronto. He'd been promising them all one for weeks now, but his muses had deserted him.

He didn't bother texting the hyperactive teenager back.

After fifteen more minutes of running in hopeless circles of musical thought, Harry gave up.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This chapter is unbeta'd, but will be replaced with the beta'd one in about a week. My beta (omgosh I have one) is a good friend, and she's in exams at the moment (actually, so am I, but I'm also mentally challenged and think that writing fanfic during my trials is perfectly fine). And I just really, really wanted to post this. I'm about 40 percent of the way through writing chapter three, so it should be up in about a fortnight. Please review!! **  
Pairing: **Alright, I'm sorry for those who wanted a Ginny/Harry, but I've gone for **Draco/Harry** slash. Firstly, because I've been reading more HD fanfic than HG fanfic, secondly, because I think there was already a lot of tension between Harry and Draco and thirdly, _because I can. _

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Chapter Two

Wrought iron gates and two modernized sandstone watch-towers loomed over Harry. He flicked his sweaty fringe out of his eyes while his breathe evened, observing Malfoy's house with a sense of resignation. His lips quirked at the large golden plaque which proclaimed: _Malfoy Manor._

For a few moments, while he caught his breathe from the long walk, Harry's dislike of Malfoy lessened. It wasn't really Draco's fault that he'd grown up a completely spoilt brat. Nurture over nature, after all. If their roles had been reversed, Harry probably would have been the same. With a sigh, Harry pressed the doorbell.

A small black and white screen built into the sandstone flickered almost immediately into life. Draco's face (his mouth just opening to speak) was pushed out of the way to be replaced by Blaise's forehead and excited giggling. "Harry! Harry! Draco said that if you were even a minute late he wouldn't let you in and you'd have to die outside crying because you had pneumoniAHH!"

Blaise disappeared with a look of agony on his face, and Draco reappeared, face sour.

"Gate's opening." He said simply, and the screen crackled back into blackness.

Harry grinned and adjusted the guitar hanging off his shoulder. He guessed that they had been waiting for him next to the intercom. He most probably would be the last one to arrive, as he usually was. He could see that Charlie's car was parked hazardously on the lawn, and the mental image of Draco's enraged face caused a blissful smirk to grace his own. The front door was open when he arrived.

"Harry, late as usual." Charlie greeted him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, as usual. The Dursley's were hosting a dinner party for Vernon's boss; I had to clean the house." It had taken Harry all day, while he had been ignoring Dudley's taunts and sweating blood. He had dusted, wiped and polished every surface in the house. Charlie winced in sympathy, and led him to the kitchen.

Malfoy's house was enormous and filled with expensive ornaments and _chic _pieces of art. His mother, Narcissa, was obsessive about displaying their wealth and her husband, Lucius, indulged her. The entrance hall was paved with pale ceramic tiles, and a fountain blew water into the air from the throat of a Fawn.

Seeing Harry's roll of the eyes, Charlie grinned at him. "It's crazy. They probably never even _use _this room." Harry nodded in agreement. If anyone would understand the pointlessness of the Malfoy's attempts at impressing their visitors, it would be a Weasley.

A warm smell drifted towards him as they reached the kitchen.

"Harry! You made it." Ginny Weasley smiled at him from the stove, where two pots were on the boil. Around the expansive room, Draco was leaning casually against the white marble bench-top and Blaise was sitting with his nose an inch from the screen of a metre high plasma TV. Charlie walked back over to the kitchen table, where notes were spread out in the shape of an umbrella over his chair.

Harry smiled and walked over to the TV, dumping his guitar and rucksack. "Hey y'all."

Draco lifted a lazy hand in welcome, and Blaise ignored him, focused on the screen. Ginny ran round to engulf him in a cookie-smelling hug.

"You took so long I decided these boys would die of starvation if they didn't eat something." Ginny said in explanation, walking back to the stove. "Cookie's in the oven. Charlie's just going over our _repertoire_. Blaise is watching _The Incredibles_. Draco is…" she trailed off, cocking an eyebrow towards the blonde. "Well, he's doing something." She finished.

Harry smirked and peeked into one of the pots. "Ohh, looks good, Gin." He said, smiling at his best friend. She was a petit girl, with elfin-like features and a wicked sense of humour. As the seventh child in the family she was also one of the toughest people he knew, not to mention the ultimate font of knowledge for all things modern and musical. Most especially when they had 'hot' lead singers.

"_That'll be you, one day_." She'd laughed at him. Harry had just smiled.

"_If Draco can ever pull himself together enough to get up and go on stage, that is…" _At the time, it had seemed an impossibility. Not so much now, apparently.

"So, is someone going to tell me what's going on?" Harry asked as he reminded himself of the mysterious 'gig' that Draco had landed them. He turned from Ginny's laughing face, to catch Draco's eye. The blonde winced as he realised that Harry wanted him to explain himself, and looked around to the others for help.

Blaise was giggling uncontrollably in front of the TV, oblivious to their conversation, and Charlie was smirking while he shook his head.

Draco bit the bullet.

"One of my friends is having a party." He started to explain. He stood up from his leaning position against the bench, and tried to ruffle his pin-straight hair. Harry would almost say it was a little self-conscious, which only made him suspicious – Draco was never self-conscious, unless he was on stage. Today, Draco was wearing black acid-washed skinny jeans, a black Ramones shirt and chequered vans. He looked, Harry reluctantly admitted, pretty damn cool. Especially when he was placed next to Harry's baggy and torn jeans, his off-white 'Fuck Authority' shirt and his holey trainers. Harry shifted unhappily, the usual feeling of not-belonging surging up.

"I was speaking to her in chemistry and she invited me to her eighteenth, which is in a couple of weeks. She was telling me how she'd already got a band to play, so I figured it would be okay if I told her I was in a band." Draco winced again, and Blaise finally extracted himself from the TV, coming over to smirk at his best friend. "And she basically told me I had to play, and I couldn't say no."

Charlie sat at the table, watching as Draco paced agitatedly. Only an angry look from Ginny forced him to stop. Charlie turned to Harry. "Wait until you hear the rest of it." The redhead chuckled, tapping a pen against his lips.

Harry cocked a curious eyebrow towards Draco.

"He means that she'd already organised two other bands to play. So we're not going to be the only band playing." Draco reluctantly admitted. Harry groaned, and flopped onto a chair next to Charlie. At his reaction, Draco turned a number of shades pinker.

"Look, Potter." He said viciously, pointing a finger at Harry, "if you'd been in my position you would have done the exact same thing. She worked me good." Draco grumbled, scowling.

"Pansy Parkinson works _all_ the guys in our year 'good'." Blaise said with a giggle.

Draco glared at his friend.

Harry tried, once more, to work out exactly what was happening.

"So wait, we're playing a gig with two other bands?" he asked. Draco nodded. "Okay, it's not the end of the world, guys. Wost case scenario: they're better than us, we leave. Best case scenario: they suck, we look great next to them, _they_ leave." Seeing both Blaise and Charlie's amused faced, and Draco's pale one, Harry paused. "Right?"

"Wrong." Charlie laughed. "Go on, Draco. Finish the story."

"Well, her favourite bands are, like, Blink 182, Sugarcult, All-American Rejects, My Chemical Romance. Those type of emo-punk-rock life-sucks-lets-all-die bands." Draco rolled his eyes. Harry did too. "So we'll have to choose that kind of stuff, none of that gooey, swoony music, Potter. And, um." It was clear Draco was trying to delay the bad news. "Well… itsugarcultandblinkwhoareplayingwithus."

There was silence while Harry interpreted the last sentence, chewing gently on his lip. After several seconds, his hand flew to his mouth to smother a sharp gasp. He swung wide green eyes between Draco, Charlie and Blaise.

"Draco…" he said quietly, his tone pleading. "You're joking right? You're not being serious, are you? I mean, Blink one-eighty-two…? Sugarcult…? And us?" Harry tried to capture the blonde's eyes in a stare, but Draco looked away quickly. He shook his head.

Harry let his own head drop down with a thud onto the wooden table.

"Harry, don't be a dickhead." Ginny's voice floated above him, "The cookies are just a minute off, so don't spazz out and come consume some chocolate."

"I want to die." Harry informed her in a matter-of-fact voice. He then ignored her and lifted his head to stare into space. After a few seconds of this silent contemplation, he turned to Draco. "Kill me. I know you want to." His voice lowered and became coaxing. "You've wanted to kill me for a _long_ time, Malfoy."

Draco moved away hurriedly, apparently unsure if Harry was joking or not.

Charlie laughed.

The bell for the cookies went off.

"Come on Harry, it'll be okay. The main thing to do is practice." Charlie stopped his chuckling in an attempt to comfort Harry. "If you had _any_ faith in the band, this might be a damn good break. I mean, what idiot plays in a band and never expects to go on stage?" Charlie shot Draco a dark look. "If we wanna be good – and we _do _wanna be good, don't we? – then this is our chance!"

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Oh hang on. Hang on just a second! I get why Ginny's making cookies, and Blaise was engaged in the most harmless activity you could find for him. Even why _Malfoy_ was being so nice and all." He gave them all a look loaded with suspicion. "You were plotting against me!"

Draco rolled his eyes and turned away. Ginny huffed as she placed steaming hot chocolate cookies onto racks.

"Quit being so bloody melodramatic, Harry." Ginny sighed.

"Even if you _are_ right." Charlie grinned. Both Ginny and Draco shot him annoyed looks but he shrugged unconcernedly. "We may have been plotting, but you know we're right, Harry. This could be our chance." Charlie stood up from the table and stretched, exposing a flash of pale skin. "You're acting like Draco." Charlie teased him.

Harry's face soured and he exchanged glares with the blonde.

Now the shock had settled, Harry reluctantly admitted that there was a swelling of excitement in him. Imagine having that to their name: _played with such acts as Sugarcult[the crowd applaud deafeningly and Blink 182[the crowd go wild! we present you…! _And Charlie was right: as long as they practiced a bit more, (which would be code for _every_ hour of _every_ day) this could be a break for them.

Blaise slung an arm around his shoulder.

"And the best thing of all, Harry, guess what it is!" he laughed, and Harry figured by his bouncing from foot to foot, that he'd found Malfoy's stash of spearmint sweets.

"We have two weeks to practice?" Harry guessed, mentally running over songs they could play and how he could clear his schedule to fit in more practices. Considering that he'd just handed in his last assessment for the term, a paper on Global Warming, it was actually a pretty good time for this particular shock.

"No way, Harry." Charlie smirked. "The best thing is all the high-school girls that Draco's friend is inviting to the party. _High-school girls_, Harry." Charlie sounded gleeful, but Harry looked dubious. He knew a few of the Hogarth girls, through being set up on double dates with Blaise, and he wasn't really sure they were his type.

Ginny threw a napkin at her brother. "The _best_ thing, is going to be the exposure. From what Draco's said, this party is going to have several hundred people there. At least _some_ of them have got to like us. What do you say, Draco?"

"The best thing?" Draco queried faintly, thinking. His usual smirk returned. "Well we get to stick around afterwards, of course. You have _not_ been to a party until you have been to a party thrown by Pansy Parkinson. And I guess we'll get to meet the guys from Blink and Sugarcult. That should be pretty 'best'."

He and Ginny exchanged leers, before the redhead burst out into giggles and the first genuine smile of the evening reached Draco's lips. As the only two in the room who were attracted to men, Draco and Ginny had become quite close. Not to mention the redhead girl liked having a 'gay friend'. Of course though, they were nowhere near as close as Harry and Ginny.

Blaise was pouting and waving for them to all shut up and listen to him.

"No. No! What's going to be the _best thing of all_," he turned and gave Harry a very evil smirk. "Is playing those new songs you promised would be finished writing two weeks ago!" Draco was startled into laugher.

Looking at Blaise's innocently beaming face, Harry groaned.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This chapter was written a while ago, and it just needed a few finishing touches, which I have finally completed. The reason I'm telling you this is that this story hasn't really been getting much of a response and I'm beginning to wonder if anyone is actually reading it. Its winter, and its cold, and I've been in a pretty low mood lately, so I'm just warning you not to expect any updates for a significant period of time.

I need to wait for the enthusiasm I had for this fic to return.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated, and I hope you like this incredibly FAT chapter. I hope it gives both Draco and Harry a tiny bit more dimension.

xo

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**Chapter THREE**

Draco pulled up into the school car park at exactly seven thirty-four on Thursday morning, absolutely exhausted.

It was now just over twenty-four hours until Pansy's party was scheduled to commence. Draco was finally beginning to feel the familiar flock of butterflies as they fluttered in his belly. He knew that soon enough, that fluttering would transcend into a full-blown tsunami, with a couple of fire-breathing dragons, screaming gryphons and spear-wielding centaurs thrown in the mix. Draco did not like performing in front of people. Period.

He leant back into the black leather seat with closed eyes, and sighed.

The band had been practicing almost every night and playing into the small hours of the morning. Harry was having multiple seizures a day, which Draco _would_ have found amusing, if each one didn't inevitably result in frenzied orders for even _more_ practice.

Draco's fingers hadn't ached like this since he had first started to play.

But it _was_ paying off.

They'd been pretty good before; Harry's musical talent sometimes actually managed to break through his modest, unassuming, outlook on life (the general cloud of disbelief that he could be good at anything often prevented him from _being _good at anything). Draco himself was an amazing musician, as were Ginny, Charlie and Blaise. Each of their parts was brilliant, but somehow, the whole had never quite met expectations. Over the past two weeks, Harry's harsh practice schedule and determined attitude had managed to draw them together.

It looked as though all they had ever needed was a common goal.

"Fuck!" Draco jumped as a loud thump on the side of the car heralded Blaise's arrival. The brunette was squished up against the driver's window, his nose flat and mouth moving against the glass. Draco recoiled as Blaise's tongue left a trail of spit on the Aston's otherwise gleaming window. He rapped angrily on the double-glazed glass, and Blaise took a step back, waited for a moment, and starting up an annoying tapping.

"For Christ _sake_!" Draco growled. He reached across to the passenger seat, grabbed his school bag, and opened the door as quickly as he could, hoping to slam in into Blaise's face. Unfortunately, Blaise jumped back before it made contact with his nose.

"Hi, Draco!" Blaise chirruped. He waggled his fingers around the car keys in his hand. His grey school jumper was as perfect as Draco's own, and his brown hair swung angelically around his bright face. _It bloody well ought to_, Draco thought. Blaise's mother still dressed him, brushed his hair, and made his lunch every single morning. It really was sickening.

Draco growled, grabbed the grinning boy, and used his sleeve to wipe the window clean.

"Oh." Blaise said belatedly, smile dropping into a look of bemusement. "Sorry." It was a sign of exactly how tired Blaise was that he could be thrown out of his funk from such a small thing. It normally took an atomic explosion to even make him pause.

Draco dropped Blaise's arm and covered his eyes with a hand, breathing deeply. He wondered, once more, why his best friend was a psychotic, immature, basket-case in need of constant attention. But before he could ask Blaise himself, Draco watched as the brunette reached up to rub his eyes sleepily and give Draco a small, adorable, pout. Blaise had his own merits, Draco acknowledged with a mental sigh. His own quirky and lovable angles which not even Draco at his most cynical could dismiss.

"Draco, I'm really sleepy." Blaise whined. "Oh, and I left my bag in the car. It was too heavvv-vyy."

Draco scowled. 'Car' was a lose interpretation of exactly what Blaise drove.

Rather than accept the Jaguar K series his parents had offered him, Blaise had asked for a cross-country Jeep. His mother, rolling in almost as much money as the Malfoy's, had refused his request on the basis that it wasn't expensive enough. To compromise, she'd bought him a Hummer. Draco was terrified by the huge car (or was it really an army tank in disguise?), and even more terrified by Blaise's driving.

He rolled his eyes. "Ok, let's go pick up your bag and then get to Home Room. The sooner this day is over, the sooner I can go home and catch a nap before bloody Potter turns up and starts demanding practice."

Blaise gurgled his agreement and trailed along behind like a bouncing tin can.

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"Draco! Draco, darling!" a high-pitched voice hailed Draco down as soon as he had stepped inside his Home Room. Turning, he saw Pansy Parkinson strutting towards him, the hungry eyes of every male in the room following her. He felt the sudden heat of their glares as they homed in on him.

_Don't worry! _He mentally assured them. _I'm gay! _

Pansy, as a result of her upcoming party, was now more popular than ever. The hysteria which had arisen as soon as the first wave of invitations had been sent out had been absolutely insane. Draco, personally, could not see the point in all the fussing. It wasn't like any of his classmates had to _perform__in front of_ the hundreds of people who had been invited.

Pansy blinked coquettishly, and smiled brightly as she finally reached him. Draco may have been gay, but it was Pansy who was in denial, not him.

"Draco! _There _you are!" she twirled a strand of blow-dried, straightened, moisturized, product-soaked hair, "Darling, I'm _so_excited. I simply can't _wait_to hear you play! You're so talented, Draco, I just know that you and your little friends must be_marvelous_, Darling. Just _marvelous!_" She placed one claw on his arm and sidled up uncomfortably close.

From behind Draco, where he had tried to hide, Blaise squeaked.

"Oh." Pansy said, seeing him for the first time. "Hi, Zabini."

Blaise and Pansy had an interesting relationship. One where Blaise worshipped the ground her Jimmy Choo heels clicked over, and Pansy regularly forgot he existed.

"Hi, Pansy." Blaise said, in a small voice, all of his exuberant energy deserting him to make way for utter adoration. Draco was forced to resist the urge to hit his friend over the head. Blaise had regressed back to a shy toddler hiding behind Draco's leg: all cutesy voice and wide eyes. How any male could ever be attracted to Pansy was beyond him. A simpering sugary voice, sharp and styled brunette bob, fake smile with perfectly shining teeth and long red claws did not inspire affection. But then, Draco was gayer than Orlando Bloom in a tutu, and couldn't really comprehend the male attraction to double D's.

Pansy turned back to Draco.

"So are you excited about tomorrow, Darling?" she simpered, but continued before he had a chance to answer. "Everyone's going absolutely _crazy _about it. Daddy had to have our home phone number changed because _so_ many people were calling, just_begging _to be let on the list." Pansy's voice rose in indignation, before settling back into false-modesty. "All for _my_little party. I mean, just my _little _birthday party."

Draco rolled his eyes.

There was nothing even _almost_ 'little' about Pansy's upcoming eighteenth. And the students of Hogarth Academy knew it. There was no length that some of them would go to in an attempt to get onto Pansy's top-secret (utterly prejudiced) party list.

"I heard a rumour that you were going to arrive on some special kind of 'thing'. Reports vary as to an imported Indian Elephant, naked man-slaves, or a personalized Rolls Royce with your name inlaid in gold." Draco laughed a little as he spoke; privately thinking he wouldn't be surprised if any of these guesses had been accurate.

Pansy looked delighted.

"Oh, _Darling, _I can't _possibly _tell you. It's absolutely _top secret_. It was so hard to convince Mummy and Daddy, and I don't want to ruin it all!" She lowered her voice conspiringly and leaned in, "but I _can _tell you; it's going to be _grand, _Darling. Absolutely _grand! _People will be talking about Pansy Parkinson's Eighteenth Birthday Bash for _years _to come." She beamed at him, leaning out again. Underneath all of the layers of makeup, Draco thought he saw genuine delight in Pansy's face.

"I can't wait." He lied earnestly through his teeth. "I just hope we don't disappoint you, Pans. I'm not sure we can live up to the likes of Sugarcult and Blink."

Pansy leant back in surprise at his lack of confidence and bestowed Draco with a searching look. After a moment she scowled and swatted his arm. "Draco, you foolish boy! Since _you're_ in the band, the others just won't compare, I know it. Even if you're absolutely shocking, you _know _I'll love you, Darling. I'd prefer to see you over silly Sugarcult _any _day." Pansy actually managed to sound sincere. The moment was spoilt as her face once more split into a grin. "And you _know _how fun it will be to be known as the girl who discovered you! I'll go down in history!" She preened.

Draco doubted there would be any discovering going on at all, because frankly, he was beginning to remember why he never performed on stage. He could be confident up until about six hours before he was meant to be playing, but then… he was liable to run and hide. And God help anyone who tried to stop him.

"Well, sure. The guys and I will always remember you as the one who led us to fame." He smiled, attempting to appease Pansy.

"Oh, yes! I'm excited to meet the other boys in your band, Darling. Who are they? I can't believe I didn't ask before! None of them can be as gorgeous as you, surely?" she giggled into her hand. "I mean, as gorgeously _talented_ as you."

Draco was sure that it was far too early in the morning for him to have to deal with this. Trying to tell Pansy he _didn't like girls_ was like drawing blood from a stone. She simply couldn't believe that anyone could be immune to her voluptuous charms.

"Well, there are us four guys. Harry, Blaise, Charlie and me. Then there's this sweet girl who keeps us all in line; Ginny, I suppose. Right, Blaise?"

Blaise blinked for a second, clearly not having heard a word. "Oh? Oh. Right. Gin's a star."

"A _girl_?" Pansy asked sharply. Her grip on Draco's arm tightened considerably.

Before Draco could jump at this chance to discourage Pansy's not-so-subtle advances, Blaise butted in, apparently having regained the capacity for speech. "Oh, don't worry, Pansy." he chuckled, elbowing Draco in the ribs. "Draco's the biggest Queen you've ever _seen_. It's me and Charlie who you should be really worried about. And Harry as well, if he ever decided to get over the denial and admit how madly and passionately in love he is with Draco. Not that you need to be worried about _me_, y'know, 'cos I'm really rather straight."

Draco wanted to hug his erratic friend. And then punch him, for the Potter comment. Unfortunately, though, Pansy did not look at all disturbed. She just smiled knowingly, a calculating glint in her eye. "Oh, it's just a _phase_, Darling. I'm sure it'll be over soon. And don't you worry – when it is, Draco, you'll know where you can find me." At this invitation, she flicked her hair back and lowered her lashes demurely.

Once again though, before Draco could answer, Blaise had jumped in. "Pansy, Draco's been organising his mother's closet by colour since he was five years old. He orchestrates all of the family shopping trips and has some kind of a love affair with Milan. He won't step out of the house unless he knows that every strand of hair is in perfect alignment, and not a single unintended wrinkle has dared to form. In kindergarten his top three dream occupations were hairdressing, modelling, and cooking! If you can find a guy more likely to chase cock on this entire campus, I will declare my undying sexual attraction to Gregory Goyle!"

Blaise finished with a flourish, patting Draco on the head fondly.

Pansy huffed. "I'll see you later, Draco." She said, giving Blaise a severe glare and turning to flounce away. Draco watched her go wearily, smiling reassuringly at his Home Room teacher's enquiring look. Turning to Blaise, he couldn't help the smile which grew.

"You," he said to Blaise, "are the best friend a bloke could possibly have."

* * *

Harry walked into his Geography class twenty minutes late. He had overslept, which was unusual, because normally Aunt Petunia would have banged on his cupboard door at ten to six in the morning. In a strange coincidence, it just so happened that Dudley had stayed the night at Pier Polkinson's house, and was not in need of a Harry-cooked hot breakfast. He slipped quietly into the back row, pulling out an old ratty folder and blue-lined paper. The teacher, Mr. Thomas, barely spared him a glance.

In the row ahead, Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil were engrossed in gossip.

"I suppose we shouldn't be surprised that _he _got an invitation." Lavender was saying, her tone indicating that she was, in fact, surprised. "Susan Bones told me that _apparently_ Pansy Parkinson is a complete slut. I mean, _no duh_ she'd choose Stonewall's quarterback and leave the rest of us high and dry. Like, we're not _good _enough for her." Lavender sounded extremely bitter, and Harry bit his lip to stop from laughing.

Pavarti was nodding feverishly in agreement. "You know, she hasn't invited _any _girls from Stonewall. Only the _Hogarth _girls get to go. God, she just wants to steal all of our guys!"

The two of them made shocked noises to each other, tutting over this appalling motive. Mr. Thomas paused in his lecture to glare at them, and they lowered their voices but continued to speak. Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but listen in on the gossip. It was fun knowing something they didn't. They'd go absolutely crazy if they knew that _he _was invited to the party. Not to mention that they were wrong – there was _one _Stonewall girl going. Harry's smirk echoed the one he knew Ginny would be wearing.

"So who'sshe taking, y'know, _as her date?_" Lavender asked Pavarti, nudging her so they both leered. "The guy would have to be _crazy_ to want to go with her!"

From the row in front of the girls, Terry Boot leant backwards.

"Crazy _not _to, I think you mean. Pansy Parkinson is _hot,_and she's totally _loaded_."

Lavender and Pavarti exchanged horrified looks. "As _if_ she is! You guys just like her because she's so ready to put out. And,_oh my God_ Terry, it's not as if you should like someone just 'cos they've got money! What kind of _morals _do you have?!"

Terry snorted, and turned around fully. Next to him, Justin spun round also, looking interested in the conversation. "You guy's talking about Parkinson's Bash?" he asked. Lavender and Pavarti nodded. "Parkinson is bloody gorgeous! I'd totally do her." Justin agreed with Terry.

Lavender, Pavarti and Harry all winced. "You crude little man!" Lavender hissed. "Do you have any respect, at all?!"

"I thought you said she was a slut?" Justin defended himself. "I'm only agreeing with you!" He pointed out, looking afraid. Lavender and Pavarti huffed, but backed down. There was silence for a few moments.

"I heard she was taking Oliver Wood, the soccer player. Apparently he graduated from Hogarth. Man, is he fit, or what?" Lavender said, reduced once more to whispering after a particularly harsh glare from Mr. Thomas. Pavarti nodded vigorously. Harry knew from listening to previous conversations between the two of them that she had a life-size poster of the famous Soccer player stuck to her bedroom wall, which she bestowed kisses on when she was feeling particularly depressed.

"Well _I_ heard she's taking Draco Malfoy." Terry said, back completely turned to the front so he could be part of the conversation. Harry saw a few other people had turned to listen as well.

Pavarti sighed. "Talk about hot… That boy is a walking God. You kind of lose faith about those people existing in real life, and then he comes along, and you're a true believer. Did you see him at that charity run? He should start a career as an underwear model." She made a small sound of enlightenment. "Or a porn star!" she and Lavender fell on each other, giggling.

Harry almost gagged at the images his brain quickly supplied, and he copied down one of the passages on the black-board to distract himself. When he tuned back into the conversation, the topic had returned to the secret guest list. Justin was telling the girls that each invitation issued had careful instructions on it in regards to what the receiver could and could not say/do, and if they disobeyed, then the invitation was nullified.

"Apparently if you get invited, you can't let anyone else know." He told them, shaking his head to show how ridiculous he thought this was. "And if you tell anyone, then Parkinson doesn't let you in."

Terry shoved him in the shoulder.

"As if! How the hell would she _know _if you told anyone? People could just make up rumours about it when you hadn't said anything. There's no way that's true." Harry silently agreed, thinking of his own special 'VIP' invitation lying on the shelves in his cupboard. Nowhere did it convey dire threats of exclusion if he told people he was on the list. Harry just didn't really feel like the stress which being one of the 'Chosen' few invited would bring.

"Well I think we should have an anti-Pansy-Party, to celebrate not having to go to her party. I mean, it's just disgusting how extravagant it all is. You know my Flute tutor, Penelope Clearwater? Well, she said that one of her Hogarth students told her that Pansy had organised _Blink 182 _to play, for music! I mean, which less-favoured child did her Dad have to sell to get _them_ to come? They're like, _famous._" Terry and Justin were looking at Lavender with startled faces, clearly not having heard this particular rumour before.

"No way!" Terry said.

"Shit… Blink are one of my favourite bands!" Justin said.

Harry chewed on his lip, reminded immediately of his upcoming fate. He had given up trying to guess what tomorrow would bring – Draco had been unusually agreeable about having to perform (although Harry suspected it would all inevitably fall apart five minutes before they were due to go on stage – Draco's track record for that sort of thing was bleak) and from all the brainstorming the five of them had done, he didn't know _how _they could have missed anything.

They had a set of nine songs, two of which were reworked covers. Five of the songs had been written in group sessions, with everyone fooling around on their separate instruments. Two of them had been written by Harry, in his cupboard under the stairs, when he was feeling lonely. _Depressing, _Harry thought, _I can only write when I'm sad. That makes it appropriate that we're coming out all rock-emo._

As Draco had requested on behalf of Pansy, they were going down the ill-trodden path of teenage angst. Because, like most teenager girls, Pansy loved looking at anguished guys (preferably tearing their shirts off with pain! Oh, the pain of existence!) and bearing their soul through music. Personally, Harry thought it was all a load of shit, but he supposed that most of the bands did too. They were probably only in the tearing-off-shirt-from-pain-of-existence business for the money.

Some rock music could be fun, though. And it was only one spoilt girls eighteenth – hardly going to decide his entire career.

He was cut off from his thoughts as the school bell rang, and the classroom disintegrated into an organised chaos. Harry stuffed his Geography folder into his satchel bag and pulled out a scrap of paper with his timetable printed out. His classmates flooded out the door, talking loudly. Lavender Brown was laughing at something Terry Boot had said, and none of them had noticed his eavesdropping from earlier.

Apparently, Harry had a free period, and from the pencilled in timetable that shadowed his own, Ginny was in Tech.

The Tech teacher at Stonewall Secondary was a complete and utter rambling idiot.

Harry usually spent the times when Ginny had tech and he had a free, pretending he was in the grade below and studying Design. If his age, lack of presence on the class list, or Captain of Music Badge didn't give it away, his appalling state of dress might have. It was a surprise to him every lesson when Ms Trelawney pottered over to them to inspect their 'joint' assignment.

Harry joined the students milling outside the Design Studio, searching for familiar red hair. Most of the students who took Tech were girls, a few of whom called out 'hello's as he waded though, looking for Ginny. It was ironic that he had more friends in the year below than in his own year, but not entirely unexpected. The amount of time he spent hanging out with Ginny was enough for it to seem a given that they would share friends. He found her at the heart of the group, surrounded by her 'posse'.

"Harry!" She said, smiling and launching herself onto him for a hug. "I _would_ say I'd missed you, but I would be lying, since at one thirty this morning all I wanted to do was punch you in the face. You look exhausted. You can sleep under my desk." A few of her friends tittered, whispering to each other about why she'd wanted to punch him so late at night, and Harry blushed, hugging her back. No matter how many times he told the year eleven girls, they persisted in believing that there was something going on between him and Ginny.

This could not, of course, have been more untrue.

He pulled back and shook his head. "That's awfully nice of you, Gin. But I've got some Geography homework I wanna get out of the way. Mind if I just keep you company?" Trewlany arrived and opened the door, ushering them all in. Harry bounced along, grinning, surrounded by giggling girls who all thought it was a longstanding and very hilarious joke that their teacher had no idea Harry was a senior.

Ginny and Harry chose a desk up the back of the room, where Ginny dropped a felt bag filled with material.

"I doubt you'll get much of a chance for the homework, honestly." She said, opening the bag and beginning to draw out various types of fabric. She crouched down to open a cupboard and withdraw a sewing machine tagged with the number four. "Why don't we just talk? We haven't been able to lately, with the whole band thing." She winked. "Still a secret?"

Harry nodded.

"I was listening to Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil talking about it, in Geography. Honestly, it's bloody crazy Gin. I don't know why everyone is getting so worked up about it." Harry said exasperatedly, watching as Ginny expertly set up the sewing machine with a turquoise thread.

"Pavarti Patil is one of the twins, right?" Ginny clarified. Harry nodded again. "Well those two are complete gossip-whores, Harry. But Pansy's party _is_ a big deal. Her parents have spent a _lot _of money on it."

"But it's so stupid!" Harry whined.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You know what's really stupid, Harry?" she asked. Harry shrugged, sensing a rebuttal. Ginny held up a half finished jacket, a mix of leather and silk and fur and logos and embroidery and buttons and ribbons. Harry leant back instinctively, his experiences of Ginny and her attempts to cloth him (usually in some absolutely monstrous _thing_) calling a red alert.

"What is _really_ stupid, Harry, is that this jacket would look stunning on you, but I _know _you will refuse to wear it. Despite my having spent six months making it. Despite the fact that I am going to give it to you as your birthday present and there_should_ be an obligatory sense of requirement. I know you hate having to think about what you wear, and I know you won't wear this. But that is what is really stupid, Harry. Not Pansy Parkinson wanting to have a good birthday party."

Harry shook his head and groaned. The jacket really _was_ disgusting, he thought defensively. Though Ginny _was_ his best friend, not even for _her _would he be willing to wear it. At her knowing raised eyebrow, daring him to contest her statement, he dropped his head onto the table. Ginny nodded to herself and tutted.

After several strange sounds of clinking and clattering, the gnawing drone of the sewing machine began.

Harry felt it must be safe to look up again.

Around the room the students were all working on their own projects, various articles of clothing in varying different stages of completion. In the right-hand corner of the room, he saw Trelawney standing by an electric kettle and waiting for it to boil. She was clutching a china cup and blinking bemusedly around the room. He glanced at the girls around him, most of whom he knew through Ginny. Eventually, his eyes rested on a girl who he didn't recognise.

He poked Ginny, who swore and glared at him as the machine made a funny sound.

"Who's that girl?" Harry asked her, while she angrily picked the stitches he had caused her to sew jerkily. She looked up, following his gaze.

"Oh." She said, and shook her head. "That's Luna Lovegood. She's new."

Harry pulled a curious face at her tight tone. "New?"

"Word is she came from Hogarth. No one knows why she left."

"She _left _Hogarth? God, _why_? No one ever _leaves_Hogarth!" Harry said incredulously, before adopting the tone of a doting grandparent; "Once a Hogarth student, _always _a Hogarth student!" He shuddered. "God, they can't even escape when they graduate."

The dress Luna was working on appeared to be made from old Newspapers, and Harry watched in confusion as she took out several strange vegetables from her shoulder bag. Ginny watched with him, and then sighed, shaking her head again. "Well, she's a little strange. No one knows why she left, though I think it might be because of bullying. There are some nasty rumours about her already, poor thing. They're calling her Loony Lovegood." Ginny sighed deeply once more, her maternal instincts clearly unhappy with this teasing.

Harry blushed as Luna looked towards him, catching his stare. She had astonishingly pretty eyes, and really, had her hair not been so untamed and her look so vacant, would have been beautiful. Rather than look angry at catching him, she just smiled whimsically and returned to her work.

"Are you going to be friends with her?" He asked Ginny, turning to watch her instead, embarrassed at being caught.

Ginny bit her lip and shook her head, ashamed.

"I mean, I'm sure she's a nice girl and all… But she's just so _odd_. I mean, I really _do _hate the way people are so horrible about her, but I just don't feel comfortable whenever I speak with her." Ginny confessed. Harry looked disappointed.

"You could _try_, Gin. Please? I hate it when people are like that to anyone."

Ginny stopped her work and looked up at Harry. His face was sympathetic, the shadow of his own problems in socialising with his classmates causing the blonde's plight to resonate. Ginny could just about feel the oncoming heroic complex within him. Harry could not resist anyone in need of help. She glanced at Luna, and sighed.

"Oh, alright. I'll try. Although, it's not like I get much of a chance to hang out with my friends _usually. _I spent ninety-nine percent of my time keeping you and Draco from each other's throats. This band is swallowing all of my leisure time."

Harry sighed his agreement and rested his chin on the desk, wearily watching Ginny work. He knew that Design and Technology was her favourite class, despite Trelawney's appalling teaching, or perhaps because of it.

Ginny's family were not particularly well off, with seven children and a grandfather who had gambled all their money away. Once, long before Ginny had been born, The Weasley's had been a family of prestige equivalent to the Malfoy's. The Headmaster of Hogarth, a kindly old man who had known the Weasley's for generations, always looked for ways to get Ginny's siblings into a scholarship program. But despite this generosity, Mrs Weasley often had to go to extraordinary lengths to make ends meet. Ginny had been taught how to mend and darn from a young age. Harry liked to watch her when she was working: Ginny was, in some ways, like the mother he never had.

Her hands stopped suddenly, and she lent over to ruffle his hair.

"Chin up, boy-o." She said, smiling at him. "It's all going to be okay. God knows – we've got the best musicians in the whole of Surrey. Charlie's _fantastic_ at guitar, even if he is a bit of an idiot, and a cheap drunk. Blaise is unfairly amazing at keyboard. Anyone as mental as that boy should _not_ be able to play as well as he does! And Draco is, as you know, the best bassist in the U.K... No argument. And _you_ were virtually_born_ with a guitar in your hands, Harry. If Idol can make_Kelly Clarkson_ a star, then I'm sure _we_ can get there easily enough."

Harry laughed. The two of them had watched an entire season of American Idol when the Dursley's went on holiday one long weekend, and they'd had fun criticising all of the contestants, especially the eventual winner. It had also made them swear to never compete in an Idol-esque competition.

Ever.

"I'm not really sure I _want _to be a star, though. I mean, I just started the band for the hell of it, y'know? This whole 'gig' thing has just been wearing me down so much. I didn't think it would be this hard, when we started." Harry explained.

The band had first started as a 'duet' type thing between Harry and Ginny in Harry's tenth grade, just over two years ago. Ginny, assigned the drums as her instrument for year seven music, had loved them. She'd kept learning, inspired both by the loud noises she could legitimately annoy her brothers with, and Harry's enthusiasm for all and any form of music. They had practiced bumpily in Ginny's tiny room, Harry easily making up for any of her mistakes. In year ten, he'd been playing guitar for six years. Charlie, then Blaise, and then Draco, had joined them through varying circumstances in the two years since. But the band would always really be Harry and Ginny's.

"We sure have come a long way from where we started." Ginny agreed, remembering their first bumbling rendition of The Beatles'_Yellow Submarine._

"Mainly as a result of Malfoy and Blaise's financial contributions." Harry said, scowling.

Ginny hit him over the head.

"Oh! As if you can be angry with him for _caring_ about the band! Draco's a nice guy, Harry. And he loves being in the band. Honestly!"

Harry grumbled.

"Oh, heads up!" Ginny suddenly whispered, and Harry straightened to see what she was motioning towards. It was Trelawney, making her glittering way towards them, steaming tea held before her like a trophy.

"Hi, Mrs Trelawney!" Ginny said, smiling brightly. Her sudden, mocking, perkiness went completely unnoticed by the teacher, who beamed at the both of them. Harry could barely repress the grin he felt forming at the poor woman's obliviousness.

"Jenny!" She addressed Ginny happily, "your cheerful attitude is always such a _nice_ way to start the day! I see you have progressed with your beautiful dress." She motioned towards the shirt Draco had asked Ginny to alter for him the day before. Ginny nodded and smiled winningly.

"Oh, yes, Mrs Trelawney. I was really inspired by that beautiful dress you wore last week." She said. Even Trelawney looked a tad doubtful at this flattery, and Harry actually had to turn away so that she didn't notice his chuckle. Trelawney had been wearing the exact same sequined dress (occasionally with a different shawl) for as long as Harry had been ducking into Ginny's classes uninvited.

Apparently having judged Ginny's comment as genuine, Mrs Trelawney beamed at them once more, exposing a gold filling. "Why thankyou,_thankyou,_ my darling. Do continue. _Do _continue." She said benevolently, before sweeping away with many jingles as her buttons clinked mystically.

As soon as she was far enough away, Ginny and Harry both burst out into giggles.

"I can't believe she falls for that, _every single time_." Harry laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Ginny smiled, completely unabashed.

"I have experience with egos like hers, Harry. Living with my brothers – especially Ron – you're expected to always be ready with a compliment and _woe_ if you don't have one." She poked Harry in the side and repeated herself melodramatically, "Woooeeee!"

Harry laughed, knowing this was blatantly untrue. Despite being the youngest, and a girl, Ginny was the clear 'Head Sibling'. You wouldn't know it to look at her, but Ginny could be scary.

"Hmm. So what were Lavender and Pavarti saying about Pansy's? You _do _know it's absolutely killing me not being able to brag about getting invited. I don't get why you've decided to keep it all hush-hush." Ginny said absently, returning to the sewing machine.

Harry shrugged, not remotely sorry. "The usual rumours." He said. "Pansy's a slut. Pansy's date is Oliver Wood. Pansy's got Blink 182 to play. Pansy's inviting all our guys. Blah blah blah. I'm really getting sick of it all. Oh God." He groaned suddenly, "it's going to be absolutely terrible tomorrow. _Everyone _will be talking about it."

"Ohh! Maybe we should ditch and head into London for the day!" Ginny said with a gasp of inspiration, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "I could ask Charlie to give us a lift in. Or _better yet_, we could invite Draco and Blaise and get a lift in Blaise's car! Oh my God! Yes!"

Harry's eyes had widened as she bounced from foot to foot, looking extremely excited.

"No!" He said, slightly bewildered. "Where did this come from? We can't _ditch_ school! We can't get _Blaise _to drive us! Are you suicidal, Gin?"

"Oh, come on, Harry! Don't be such a prude. We're _teenagers_, we're supposed to ditch school and be hooligans, etcetera, etcetera. Blaise and Draco will be sure to say yes, and Charlie doesn't _have_ to come. He might be working, anyway. Oh, this is such a good idea!" She squealed.

"No. No! It is _not _a good idea, Ginny. It is a very _bad_idea. And I will not be coming, under any circumstances. The last thing I need on the day of the concert is to be stranded in London." Harry sounded panicked. He leant forward, and grabbed a hold of Ginny's shoulders. "Anything could happen!"

Ginny just rolled her eyes. "Fine, then." She said, her forehead creased in a frown. "No ditching. If you would let me _go_, now?" She huffed and shook her shoulders stiffly as soon as Harry released her, not realising he'd been holding her so tightly. In his effort to apologise, Harry didn't notice the devious look that flickered across Ginny's face before she sniffed angrily, and proceeded to ignore him for the next twenty minutes.

If he _had_ seen it, he might have guessed what she had planned. He'd been her friend long enough to realise that Ginny Weasley was not beyond kidnapping.

Just before the lesson let out and Harry almost finished the five hundred word essay he'd been assigned in geography, Ginny looked up from her sewing machine. It appeared he was forgiven. He noticed, with vague unease that she was smiling a little too smugly. He could guess that his punishment had been decided.

"What is it, Gin?"

The smile escalated into a full blown smirk.

"You're not going to like it." She warned, sounding pleased. "We need to get you some clothes, for tomorrow. Some clothes that will look _good_." She corrected herself meaningfully, watching as Harry opened his mouth to protest. He was forced to close it sheepishly. "So I figured we'd just borrow something of Draco's for you. Now _there_ is a man who knows how to dress properly!"

She smiled fondly, while Harry recovered from almost choking.

"No _way!_" He moaned, loudly enough that the girls at the tables nearby looked over in curiosity. "There is _no way _I am wearing _anything _of his!"

Ginny's face was stern and she patted his hand condescendingly.

"Harry, Draco has very good style. Impression is going to be a large factor in tomorrow's performance, and let's face it – if our lead singer looks like he's just crawled out of a garbage can, then we definitely _won't _be giving the right one. We have to look _hot_."

"But he's _gay!_" Harry wailed, loudly, as a last resort. He blushed sharply as he noticed the eyes of the entire collective class zone in on him. Ginny looked around as well, glowering at them all, and they quickly turned away. But Harry could tell, from the suspicious lack of productivity in the classroom that they were still listening. Even Trelawney had inched closer, hiding behind her teacup.

Ginny grabbed his collar and hauled him up close, her voice low. She looked mutinous.

"Draco's sexuality had _nothing _to do with _anything_." She whispered furiously. "You _will _wear _whatever _I tell you to wear. And, even better, you willdo it without saying a single word in protest. Do I make myself _clear_, Harry Potter?" Ginny shook him a little to emphasis her point, and Harry nodded vigorously, his eyes almost tearing. He slumped back in relief as she released him, adopting a sunny smile. "Wonderful!" She said, and clapped her hands together.

Harry took a deep breathe, and held it. After several seconds of considering suicide, he released it in a thundering sigh.

"I'm going to die." He muttered. "I'm actually going to die."

Suicide would not be required.

* * *

"Your sister is an advocate of the devil." Harry informed Charlie later that afternoon. He swung his backpack carelessly into the back seat of the Toyota and climbed into the front. His hair was more messy than usual, a clear sign of his agitation, and his lips were raw from chewing. Combined with his waxy skin and the dark circles under his eyes, he did not look well.

"I take it she can't come to practice?" Charlie asked sourly, a tone of worry buried in the question. Harry nodded tiredly, and rested his head against the seatbelt. Charlie nodded once to himself and then revved the engine loudly, scaring a group of year eights waiting for their parents. They shot out of the car park like a bullet from a gun, and swerved onto the road through two lanes of traffic.

Harry laughed lazily, slumped against the passenger-seat door. "Your driving gets better every time I get in the car with you, Charlie."

The redhead smiled, and accelerated.

"So why can't Ginny come?" Charlie asked after several seconds of silence. His eyes flicked over Harry's exhausted slump, and concern flared in his eyes. Knowing Harry though, he didn't say a word. "Last I spoke to her she was coming. That was only this morning. What came up?"

"Detention with Quirell." Harry said, and Charlie 'ah'd' in understanding.

There was silence again, and Charlie tapped on the wheel absently, occasionally shooting concerned looks at Harry. He didn't turn the radio on, as he normally would have, because Harry had forbidden any of them to listen to any music that wasn't a tape of the songs they would be playing on Friday. Something about keeping focused.

"So…" Charlie began, eventually cracking. "How was school?"

Harry finally stirred and turned to glare at him. "_Your_ sister has forced me to borrow _clothes,_" he paused, and lowered his voice angrily; loading it with meaning, "from _Draco_, for tomorrow." He suddenly closed his eyes in apparent pain, and jerked his head away, as though looking at Charlie was just too painful.

The older man looked astonished for a second, before bursting out into laughter.

"Oh, I see!" He cackled. Harry glared at him, but he didn't stop. "I get it. Oh, Potter," he chuckled, "you _are_ an idiot."

Harry tried to glare harder, but couldn't help the smile which tugged at his lips. "Sure, sure." He growled finally, giving up. He shifted in his seat minutely as Charlie pulled up at a set of red lights. As soon as the car jerked reluctantly to a stop, Harry lunged into the back seat and made a grab for his bag. He barely managed to find the notepad and pen, and then wiggle back into his seatbelt before the lights turned green and Charlie floored it.

"Charlie!" Harry howled as the seatbelt dug into his skin, "You drive almost as badly as _Blaise_!"

"You know it!" the Weasley grinned, taking his eyes off the road for an alarmingly long time to give Harry a pleased smirk.

"Charlie!!" Harry screamed, clutching onto his seatbelt as they swerved terrifyingly close to the stream of oncoming traffic. At the last minute, Charlie corrected their path, laughing hard at the paleness of Harry's face. Harry thought it would be better to close his eyes. "You Weasley's are all the same!" He hissed, after calming his pounding heart.

He cracked an eye open to see that they had left the congested city centre, and were now speeding along the more open roads leading out of town. From having been driven to Draco's house/mansion/castle so many times over the past two weeks, he knew that they would arrive in a matter of minutes. He was disappointed to realise he wouldn't have time to ask Charlie what he thought of the song he'd been working on.

_Well_, he thought, _maybe _that's_ for the best._

When they walked into the garage, Draco was on the phone. He was sitting on the seat for the drum kit, looking as flustered as was possible for him, and snapping down the phone line. Blaise was fiddling with his keyboard, playing _Caramel Kisses _with the sound of violin strings and trumpet blasts.

Neither of them noticed as Harry and Charlie walked in, and Draco's voice started to rise in agitation.

"…_Yes_. I said I wouldn't tell him… But I still think… It's a _stupid _idea… I know… Okay, alright… _Yes_! I said that! _How many times have I_… Okay…" he turned slightly and saw Harry. He frowned instantly. "Look, I've got to go. The guys have just arrived. I'll speak to you later." He clicked the phone closed without waiting for a reply, and swivelled. He picked up a drumstick idly and rapped it against the top drum, not breaking eye contact with Harry.

"Afternoon, Potter. Where's Weaslette?"

"Malfoy." Harry said, evenly. His voice was edged with the annoyance he had been forced to suppress towards Ginny and Charlie, both. "She's in detention. Who were you talking to?"

Draco frowned. "My mother."

"You speak to your _mother_ like that?" Harry said incredulously, not believing a word.

Malfoy snorted. "How is it any of your business, Potter?" he growled, stretching up from the seat and dropping the drumstick. It rattled against the top drum, and he moved out from behind the kit, looking annoyed. He held the mobile loosely in his hand, unable to slip it into the tight pockets of his pastel blue skin-tight jeans.

"Why is he so ready for a fight, anyway?" He asked, turning to Charlie and barring Harry completely, as though he weren't even there. Harry had to repress the urge to growl, which bubbled up inappropriately from within. He was annoyed, as always, at the casual way which Draco slouched so that his cloths stretched against him and fell in careful creases. His platinum-white hair was lightly gelled, and in general, he was looking as though he belonged on the front cover of a magazine. As he always did.

Charlie gave Harry a pitying look, catching the narrowing of the brunette's eyes. He shrugged in answer to Draco's question. "Ginny's in detention all afternoon, apparently, so I'm not sure exactly how we're going to do any practice without her. He's probably all in a knot about that." He glanced at Harry questioningly.

Harry sighed from deep down in his chest, and dropped to the floor, the exhaustion taking him by surprise.

"If Ginny isn't here, we can't practice." He agreed, with a shake of his head. Charlie and Draco exchanged a careful 'look', both of them having expected an explosion. With another soul-expelling sigh, Harry tilted his head back against the support of the keyboard and looked up at Blaise's intensely concentrating face. With what should have been a powerful crescendo of piano chords, _Caramel Kisses _came to a moaning end of trembling violin notes.

Blaise looked down and smiled. His cheeks dimpled.

"I think I've got it, Harry. That bit in the middle that was screwing up, before. I've been practicing since we got home!" he motioned to Draco, a proud lilt threading through his tone. To show Harry what he meant, he quickly played five chords in succession, the sound back to a deep piano timbre.

Harry clapped as he finished.

Charlie picked his guitar up, nursing it in his arms as he shrugged the strap over his shoulder. He strummed a few notes, which Blaise quickly matched. Harry cracked a smile as _Caramel Kisses _was played at almost three times the speed they'd written it for.

"I think we're ready for tomorrow, Harry. The best thing we can do tonight is get a good night's sleep, if you ask me." Charlie said, stroking soft, random notes from his guitar. "I don't mind driving you home, if you need a lift. But it really is pointless to stay here, especially with Ginny in detention and all."

Harry, still resting against the keyboard, sighed.

"You're probably right." He admitted.

"So what time are we going to meet tomorrow?" Draco asked, returning to his seat at the drum kit and taking Harry's agreement as a sign of impending departure. Harry turned away at the stretching fabric of the blonde's pants, blushing; privately astonished that Draco was willing to wear such tight clothes. Although, _really_, he shouldn't have been. Draco seemed into the whole 'gay-pride' concept. "Pansy's is meant to start at eight-eighteen precisely. We play at nine."

There was a pensive silence as Harry and Charlie considered.

"We're welcome at any time, Pansy told me." Draco added, "She said that she was taking the day off so that she could prepare. Apparently her makeup and hair will take at _least _four hours." He grinned wolfishly. Charlie, who was sitting on an amp, snorted.

"Not that you can talk, Pretty-Boy." He teased Draco, laughing as the blonde preened jokingly, flicking his hair back.

"Not that I'd _want _to." Draco agreed, still smiling. "I like looking absolutely gorgeous. Apparently opposed to _you, _you scruffy, homeless, red-head."

They exchanged smiles and Harry felt a stirring of jealousy at their easy friendship. It was strange that of everyone in the band, it was _he_ who had been unable to cultivate a friendship with Draco. Watching as Malfoy spoke to his friends, Harry was often forced to wonder exactly _why _he had always, and _would_ always, refuse to befriend him. But then he'd remember, and that would be the end of that.

"I think we should rock up at about five." Charlie said, when there was silence for a few moments. He turned questioningly to Blaise, who hadn't said anything for a while. He had slipped on his pom-pom headphones and was playing around with the keyboard, tuned out of their conversation. He looked up and shrugged as soon as he realised he had been addressed. He was uninterested in these types of decisions. They all knew that Draco would be looking out for his interests.

Harry considered. "Gin and I should be able to get there by five, as long as she doesn't have a detention." Harry scowled at the reminder of where his red-head best friend was. "Do you mind giving us a lift, Charlie?"

Before Charlie could answer, Draco interrupted smoothly.

"I'll pick you both up. We'll need Weasley's car to take the equipment across. Anyway, it's about time you and Ginny enjoyed the experience of a _real _car." He tapped his chest smugly. "_Mine._"

Harry rolled his eyes, slightly suspicious, but unable to come up with a legitimate excuse.

"Fine." He grumpily agreed.

"So!" Charlie said as silence returned again. "Want a lift home, Harry? Get an early night? Into your cute bunny pyjama pants and adorable Dudley cast-off Teenage Ninja Turtles top?" He sniggered as Harry's skin flushed a deep scarlet. Harry knew he would forever be cursing the fact that Ginny had six older brothers, purely for the fact that all of them had seen him in his pyjamas. Draco shifted curiously, a smirk hanging off his lips. He was an old hand at sensing moments of upcoming Harry-embarrassment.

"Fuck you, Charlie." Harry said, not at all good-natured. "I think I'll walk home, _thanks_. And my pyjamas are none of your goddamned business…"

"_Bunny_pants, Potter?" Draco interrupted, angelically. "How _sweet_."

The glower he received in return only made his smile brighten. Harry was all but snarling. With visible effort, he took a deep breathe and calmed himself, clambering to his feet. Blaise looked up again, and seeing Harry was about to leave, tugged his headphones down.

"You going already, Harry?" he asked, oblivious. Harry nodded. "But you only just got here!" Blaise protested, pouting.

"Yeah, well apparently, I shouldn't have even bothered to come at all. We're not doing anything _productive_ or anything." He shouldered his bag with a grumpy glare around the room. It was returned with two amused smiles, and a one filled with confusion. "Everyone get to bed early tonight, okay? Best form for tomorrow, right?"

"Oh, don't worry, Potter." Draco smirked, stepping forward confidently. Harry felt a squirm of fear, or _something_, flare in his belly. Malfoy sure could act like he was King of the World. "_We'll_ be ready."

* * *

**A/N: **So I've got a question: who is uke and who is seme? I'm leaning towards Draco as dom, and Harry as a cute sub… but Harry can be kinda feisty, can't he…? Please tell me who you think should be which. Their characters are going to change slightly as they hit 'the big time', so if you feel like being generous and telling me what you think and why you think it, I would really, _really_ appreciate it. Thanks.

Merry Christmas to everyone. I hope all of your yuletide wishes come true!

xo


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